Tales of Trigger
by The Shogun of Sorrow
Summary: The nonsensical, bizarre tales of the self proclaimed "Lord of Lampshades", his friends, and the strange world he lives in. Expect infuriating randomness and jokes.


It was a dark and stormy night.

Except it wasn't. It was a fine morning, with sun shining and birds twittering. Unfortunately, lying in his bed, our protagonist was oblivious to all of this. Not that he would pay much mind. Trigger, the self-proclaimed "Lord of Lampshades" didn't pay much attention to anything beside his shortsighted goals, however random or nonsensical. The hero of the story proceeded to wake up at precisely 5:50 AM, because Sleep Is Overrated®. A stretch, and Trigger was off, bounding off the bed. Unfortunately, he stepped off the wrong side, the one closer to the room's edge. After a meeting between his cranium and the wall, Trigger got up, and starred into his mirror.

"Noooooo!", our hero screamed, as the mirror looked into all of his insecurities. For it was the Mirror Of Eternal Torment©, which was supposed to be in the trash, for mirrors that can stare into your soul are rather unusable. Trigger, finished with all of his thrashing, proceeded to punch a hole in the mirror, shattering the glass and breaking the spell. Trigger considered this a warning in order to avoid procrastinating at taking out the trash. He proceeded to ponder about how he got the mirror in the first place.

"Shame. That's what I get for trusting an old man and his magical babble" reflected our protagonist, as he looked into what was left of the mirror. What he saw was a rather blocky figure, with a deep yellow head and arms. His torso was a deep blue, and his legs were a slightly-less-deep green. His figure was rather plain, except for the blue, zigzag striped, and rather ominous lampshade adorning his head.

"Looking sharp, like always" Trigger said smugly, as unlike most others, he considered himself a source of eternal beauty. He proceeded to rush out of his room, rush into the bathroom, do things that are normally done in the bathroom, and rush out again. He cartwheeled down the stairs of his home, but stumbled at the last steps, and fell to the bottom as a pile of pieces. However, using the power of [REDACTED], Trigger pulled himself back together. He proceeded to barrel into his living room, which contained a couch, a table, an HDTV hooked to a myriad of game consoles, a fireplace, and a rather dangerous looking sword mounted on the wall, patterned exactly like Trigger's own lampshade hat. He walked into his kitchen, and opened a nearby cupboard. With a look of concentration, Trigger took a box of sugar-coated sugar cereal and threw it into the air. Cereal puffs flew out of the box, which Trigger caught within a bowl conveniently placed nearby. Trigger then opened his fridge a poured out a cup of milk, as according to the Code Of The Lampshadists, a rule book made entirely by himself, under Article 42, Section 5, "...the mixing of any form of cereal and any form of dairy product, be it milk, yogurt, or beef, is seriously weird and dumb...".

"Time to dig in," Trigger said to himself, "but first, let me get my spoon!". Trigger looked away from his strangely unhealthy breakfast, pulled out a spoon from his cabinet, and looked back at his food, only to find it all gone.

"Oh no! How could this happen!?" Trigger exclaimed. He looked over back to his counter top, towards his cereal box. Lying down next to the box, a small, impish, and rather vile creature of indeterminate origin was helping himself to Trigger's breakfast.

"Hey! That's mine! Who are you!?" Trigger exclaimed, in a challenging manner. The strange imp gave Trigger a toothy grin.

"I be thy breakfast troll! Day and night, I sneakth into the homes of fools," the Imp pointed rather rudely at the furious Trigger, "and taketh thine breakfast for meself!"

"That is rather stupid," Trigger replied, "and I will not stand by and let innocents, like myself, lose their breakfast to the likes of you!" Trigger put his foot down, shaking the entire house around.

The breakfast troll looked rather stricken by the sudden earthquake, and attempted to escape, bowl in hand.

"You will not proceed!" Trigger proclaimed, and he threw his spoon at the troll. And the spoon struck the foul creature, immediately disintegrating it into its respective atoms, via a chemical reaction caused by the adamantium used to create the spoon.

"What an ugly creature," Trigger muttered as he scooped up what was left of his breakfast, "but at least I'm beautiful!" Trigger proceeded to pose to nobody in particular, but fell to his face with shock at the sudden knocking at his door. Trigger stomped over to the door and flung it open.

"Who is it?" he inquired. Standing in front of him was a man in a tuxedo. He wore opaque shades and carried a sword pack around for the sake of looking epic. He also had black, spiky hair, despite never watching an anime or playing an RPG in his life.

"Defeatless, my brother, how's it going?" Trigger inquired. Judging by the look on his brother's face, however, not all was well.

"What's _up_ , is that the earthquake that just happened also managed to topple my car off a cliff side. We don't _get_ earthquakes in the area. Were you pouting again?" Defeatless stated in a passive-aggressive tone. When Trigger proceeded to shake and babble about breakfast trolls and other nonsense, Defeatless stopped him with a glare. "I will not let this go unpunished. That car cost $400,000, and I only got to ride it for _12 seconds_ out of the dealership. You will pay!" Trigger didn't have the money to pay, as he spent most of his on video games. Defeatless knew this, and meant a different way of paying. He drew out his swords and took a step towards Trigger.

"You think you can beat me? Bring it on." Trigger smugly replied. Before Defeatless could strike Trigger down, the Lampshade Blade mounted on Trigger's wall flew towards his hand. Trigger brought the blade up and parried his brother's blow.

"Pretty good, but it will not-" Defeatless was cut off by his phone ringing in his pocket. "Hold up, I got a call, Trig."

"Oh, carry on." Trigger let go of his blade, but instead of clattering to the ground, it stayed floating next to him, swaying to his idle movements. After a brief, informative, exposition filled phone call, Defeatless hung up and put the phone away.

"Sorry bro, not today. I gotta get back to the garage." And with that, Defeatless got on his bike, which was parked in Trigger's driveway, and drove off.

"Seeya!" Trigger waved him off. "Now, what was I going to do? Oh, yeah!" Trigger went back inside his house and proceeded to play on his console for the rest of the day.


End file.
